"I don't know! I've just woken up!", growls Higelin in greeting to the group of journalists who have turned out to meet him at the French Cultural Institute in Rose Hill. The Mauritian journalists look bemused at first, wondering just what kind of creature they've roused from slumber. However, after this rather abrupt introduction Higelin turns on the charm, inviting the journalists, sitting in neat rows across from him, to "come a bit closer". Higelin obviously prefers an impression of disorder and intimacy. "I'm not a star," the singer declares, "I don't live like one and I don't think like one! And, lest a little of the star system should rub off on him, the singer keeps himself firmly in touch with reality, performing concerts in prison and joining protests on behalf of the homeless, illegal immigrants, autistic children, AIDS victims and underpaid nurses. In fact, when Higelin takes to the stage he generally transforms it into a battlefield, railing against his pet hates with a zeal which is both revolutionary and sincere.

After his lively press conference, Higelin sets off down the main street in Rose Hill, finally settling himself at a table in the local "boui-boui" - a sort of corner grocery-store-cum-canteen - where he immediately makes himself at home, tucking into a plate of spiced venison. (As surprising as it may seem, venison is a local speciality here - it's said that rearing deer for food was first introduced to Mauritius by pirates!) "Man, if I had a place like this near my house, I'd eat there all the time!", Higelin declares, wiping his mouth with a serviette. The non-star is obviously more at home in this makeshift canteen than the luxury hotel he's staying at - which, incidentally, he ridicules during his concert at the Plaza on Wednesday night.
Before Higelin arrives at the Plaza, the tiny Italian-looking theatre is a hive of activity, musicians and sound engineers taking over the stage for the obligatory soundcheck. "A bit less feedback over there on the right! No, up a bit, up a bit louder! That's it! Perfect!" This painstaking preparation is, of course, rarely noticed by the audience - unless something goes wrong on the night, that is! As the team check the final levels, I wander through the theatre corridors and, amidst a cluster of celebrity faces - Juliette Greco, Serge Lama, Sapho - find a poster advertising Higelin's last performance here ten years ago. Sitting on the steps in front of the lobby I come across Guy Lacroix, director of the French Cultural Institute and the Alliance française (which, incidentally, is very popular in Mauritius - there are no less than seven branches of the A.F. dotted over the island). "Mauritius is one of the few non-Francophone countries in the world where French is currently gaining ground," Lacroix explains, "There aren't many French people in Mauritius but what helps is the fact that French isn't associated with any one particular group so all the ethnic groups on the island feel free to use it.". Mauritius is, in fact, renowned for its rich multi-cultural mix and for many years now those of Indian, Chinese, Malaysian, French and Creole origin, have lived peacefully side by side. English is the official language on the island when it comes to written matter and administration and Creole is the everyday language spoken in the street, but French also has its place in literature, culture and conversation. In fact, just about everyone you meet in Mauritius speaks fluent French!

Given the island's passion for French, Mauritius is a regular stop on a lot of French singers' tours. "The first singer I got to come here was Maxime Le Forestier,", Lacroix recalls, "Back in those days he was covering songs by Brassens and the audience here knew all the words!" Mauritian music fans have turned out in force to see Higelin but they appear to be there for mixed reasons. Part of the audience are here because they are committed fans, but others have bought tickets because they systematically come to see any French singer who's passing through. Linley, a young Mauritian journalist, is buzzing with enthusiasm. He has already seen Higelin in concert in France and thinks he's wonderful - "so generous and sincere!" Sadley, on the other hand, belongs to the other half of the audience. He has never seen Higelin in concert but is of the firm opinion that "along with Lavilliers and Bashung, Higelin is responsible for reinventing French rock."

The re-inventor of French rock arrives on stage at the Plaza, just as the local muezzin is calling the faithful to evening prayer. Keeping up his reputation for being an elegant French dandy, Higelin strides on stage dressed in a sober black outfit, flanked by his loyal, and equally well-dressed, sidekick Mahut. The concert gets off to a rather quiet start, Higelin rolling out his hits without making any of his usual asides to the audience. Everything's orderly, disciplined and very smooth … In other words, there's not a hint of the mayhem and chaos normally associated with Higelin concerts. But suddenly, catching the audience unaware, Higelin trots off stage to find a tissue, then proceeds to blow his nose and toss the tissue into the audience, advising the lucky person who catches the trophy to "dry it out, iron it and frame it!"

The crowd at the Plaza are understandably wary of Higelin's offbeat humour at first, but they are reassured by the music, breaking into beatific smiles as Higelin's musicians launch into the superb guitar chords of "Paris -New York- Paris", jazz-style piano and the haunting strains of the accordion swinging away in the background. Higelin is warming up to his act now, striding round stage bawling, laughing and gesticulating like a veteran stand-up comedian. Love it or hate it, you have to admit his stage act is irresistibly witty and funny, especially when he launches into a full-length comic sketch, dragging Mahut in as a stool pigeon.

After the show a happy but exhausted Higelin finds time to sign a few autographs backstage, then heads off downtown to the French Cultural Institute with his musicians. At the post-show party Higelin is entertained in true Mauritian style, watching Jacques Legris, the 75-year-old king of séga, perform with an army of enthusiastic young drummers. The séga show goes down well with Higelin, who taps his tired feet and looks on grinning from ear to ear. The performance is also a special moment for Legris and his drummers - generally speaking , musicians are shown little support or encouragement in Mauritius and getting a band or musical project off the ground requires iron willpower and determination. Unfortunately, in Mauritius it appears that the sun does not shine for everyone.